


And Tomorrow, the World

by PeaceHeather



Series: Merlin fics [8]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Pendragon Returns, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 13:23:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13319028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeaceHeather/pseuds/PeaceHeather
Summary: When Arthur returns from the Lake of Avalon, Merlin learns just why it took him so long to do so. He expects to have to educate Arthur about the modern era, but it turns out that isn't necessary. Possibly subtitled "Curry and Giraffes", for reasons which will become clear in the story.





	And Tomorrow, the World

**Author's Note:**

> I have a hard time writing short fic. If you've read my stuff at all, you know this already. So I am very proud to present to you an actual one-shot! (Which I probably could have made longer if I'd wanted to... heh.) Can be read as slash or pre-slash if you really want to, although there's nothing overt--much like canon. Hopefully it makes sense and doesn't ramble too much.

Once there was a lake, but it had long since dried up, going to pond and then bog and then meadow and then forest. Once there was a tower on an island in the middle of the lake, but it was now a crumbling ruin on a low hill, surrounded by thorns and brush and trees. No one went near, and the land was overtaken by wildlife, hiding in a last bastion of nature against the encroaching urban sprawl of modern day.

One day, a man came walking out of the ruin.

He was wearing plate-and-mail beneath a fine wool cloak, and bore a sword strapped at his hip, but at a noise from overhead, he looked up and saw a passenger jet passing by, its contrail a white cloud in an otherwise clear sky, just visible through the dappling of leaves. He frowned at it, then looked around him at the surrounding forest. There was no path to be seen, not even a deer track, and the furrow in his brow grew deeper; after a moment, however, the man took a deep breath, shook his head, tugged at his leather gloves, and began to force his way through the underbrush.

* * *

 

Once there was an old man, weary of life and sad thanks to the many losses he'd endured over the years. He was lonely, and often on the edge of despair, for his losses and grief had quite outnumbered his blessings and joy by now. Yet still he clung onto a thin, shining thread of optimism, almost overwhelmed by the dark but still there all the same, for he was still alive, and as the saying went, where there is life, there is hope.

This was truer in the old man's case than in most.

One day, the old man went for a walk, near the edge of a wood which had once been a lake.

* * *

 

Why did he torture himself like this, Merlin wondered. It had been well over a thousand years. Albion no longer properly existed. The Lake of Avalon certainly didn't. Merlin hadn't even seen a fairie or lord of the Sidhe in centuries; likely they were gone the way of the dragons. Not extinct, but gone from the world of man all the same.

Arthur wasn't going to come back… was he?

And yet, Merlin was still alive. That had to mean something. It had to. If it didn't, if Merlin's perpetual unending existence had no point or purpose… well, it wouldn't do him any good even if he did finally despair. He couldn't die even if he wanted to.

Still, why walk this path, over and over, when he knew there was nothing and no one at the end of it? Why torment himself with the hope that someday Arthur could return?

A rustling from the underbrush drew his attention. There were deer around here, plenty of them, but this sounded different. The sound was coming from just ahead of him and off to the left, so Merlin stopped, and stepped back to partially hide behind a tree.

The rustling stopped, too. "I know you're there, Merlin," someone said—the voice striking Merlin to his very heart, like a splash of ice water that shocked all the way to the bone.

"It can't be," he whispered.

"Yes, it can." The owner of the voice stepped out onto Merlin's path, the one he'd worn himself into the earth over the centuries, and it was him, it was Arthur, hale and hearty and brushing twigs off his sleeves and cloak. He looked up at Merlin with a fond smile on his lips.

"You—" Merlin could say no more, his breath coming quick and shallow as his legs buckled. In a flash, Arthur was by his side, helping him to sit braced against the trunk of the tree he'd been hiding behind.

The touch of his gloved hands to Merlin's shoulder and the back of his head nearly undid Merlin entirely.

"Just breathe," said Arthur. "It's all right. I didn't mean to shock you, but I couldn't think of any way to reveal myself that wouldn't."

Merlin shook his head, eyes brimming over with tears that fell into his long gray beard. "How?" he asked, the word a bare whisper. "How are you here, after all this time?"

"That's a story," said Arthur. "And I promise I'll tell it to you. But first, why are you old?"

Merlin pressed quivering lips together, unable to take his eyes off his king. "Oh Arthur. Oh, no. It's been—you don't know how long it's been—so much time has passed since you went away—"

"No," said Arthur. "I do know that. I meant, why are you _old_? I know you can be young when you want to. Will you be young again for me?"

Merlin's magic flared almost before he could ask it to, and he felt the change sweep across him, painful in its speed as joints straightened and skin grew tight again. His clothing hung strangely on his frame when it was done, and he launched himself forward to wrap his arms around Arthur, shaking and trying so hard to contain the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him completely.

"How—oh, Arthur…" And then it was too much, and Merlin wept in Arthur's arms.

Arthur, for his part, didn't push Merlin away, didn't say anything about him being girly, and didn't try to make him stop in disgust or discomfort. Perhaps they'd shared too much in his last moments, while he'd lain dying in Merlin's arms, for there to be pretense between them now. Merlin couldn't even spare a thought to wonder at it, as Arthur's arms tightened around him and held him close.

It is said that scent memories are the most powerful and primitive, unforgettable no matter how much time has passed, and as Merlin inhaled the scent of wool and leather and oiled armor and _Arthur_ , he was brought back to those long-ago days when he'd believed in the golden age that he and Arthur were to build together. His tears subsided, though he knew they would return later, when he could be alone and process the truth that his king had finally, truly, returned; for now, though, he took a deep, shuddering breath and let it out on a wet sigh, resting his forehead against Arthur's shoulder before pulling away to look him in the eye.

"Sorry," he offered, sniffling once. "I just—"

"I know," said Arthur. "And I'm so sorry."

Merlin frowned now, studying Arthur's expression in confusion. "Sorry for what? Dying? It's not like you could have helped it. And anyway, it's my fault, I couldn't save—"

"No. Stop. It was no one's fault except Morgana and Mordred's, all right? You didn't fail me. You brought me to Avalon… such as it is," he added, looking around them. "I think we're still in the bed of the lake here, aren't we?"

Merlin shook his head. "This path marks the old shoreline," he replied.

"And you live nearby," said Arthur.

"…How do you know that?"

"I know everything, Merlin," Arthur replied somberly. "As I said: it's quite a story."

"And you promised you'd tell it to me."

"I will. Help me out of my mail first, will you? If you still remember how, after all this time," he teased.

Merlin smiled, incredulous. "I remember," he said, and set his hands to work proving it. "Why are we taking your armor off?"

"Because people in this day and age don't wear any," said Arthur, and Merlin stopped, eyes wide.

"How do you _know_ that?"

"You're really going to stop while I've got my mail halfway over my head?" groused Arthur, and Merlin shook himself and got back to work. Before long, Arthur stood before him in only his tunic and trousers, the armor bundled up in his cloak and tucked under one arm, and the sword in Merlin's hands.

"Can you hide that, with your magic?" Arthur asked. "I don't want to draw unnecessary attention."

It was all Merlin could do not to blink stupidly at Arthur. "I—yeah. Yeah, I can—" He stopped talking, and his eyes flashed gold, and he handed back to Arthur a reasonably-sized knife to tuck into his boot. "Yeah," he finished lamely.

"Thank you," said Arthur. He reached out and clapped one hand on Merlin's shoulder, and the other man staggered and stared at him as if all miracles were real.

* * *

 

They trudged up the path side by side, wherever the undergrowth allowed it, their shoulders brushing and Merlin's hands shaking still with the astonishment that the moment he'd been awaiting for centuries had finally come. They didn't talk for a few minutes, and Merlin only saved himself from tripping by virtue of knowing this trail like he knew the back of his hand, so engrossed was he in staring at Arthur's profile.

"Please," he said finally. "I don't even care what you tell me. I just… I need to hear your voice."

One corner of Arthur's mouth quirked up. "The Sidhe are cruel," he said, and Merlin frowned in confusion.

"What?"

"The Sidhe. They were cruel to you, to keep me away from you all this time. And they were cruel to me, too, in the only way they had available to them."

"What do you mean?" Merlin lifted a low tree branch out of the way and waited for Arthur to step under it. "You were prophesied to come back when Albion's need was greatest."

"And I never did," said Arthur. "Because the Sidhe kept me prisoner, rather than releasing me in accordance with that prophecy."

"What?" Merlin gasped and stumbled over nothing, whirling to face Arthur.

"Why did you bring me to Avalon, Merlin?" asked Arthur.

"Because they were the only hope I had that you could be healed," he said brokenly. "And I arrived too late, and then it was time to send your body on its way. Send you to the afterlife." He turned and started walking again, Arthur by his side. "I failed you."

"No, you didn't," said Arthur. "You taking my body to Avalon made it possible for me to return. And the Sidhe did heal me. But…"

"But?"

"It only took them a few weeks to cleanse me, to remove the taint of the magic from that sword, and after I was revived, it only took a few months for me to recover. I've been preparing to return ever since."

Merlin swallowed heavily, and to Arthur's eye looked like he was about to be sick. "You've been alive all this time?"

"Trapped on the other side of the veil, in Avalon, by the Sidhe."

Merlin opened his mouth, but instead of speaking he only took another shaky breath.

"Merlin?"

"Not… wait," he said. He sounded near tears, and Arthur ached for him. "It's too much. I just got you back. I can't—"

"I understand. Let's walk to your home, and when you're ready, I'll tell you everything."

* * *

 

They made the rest of the walk in silence, and Merlin let them into his house. It wasn't much, but Arthur didn't seem to mind, looking around with interest as Merlin went into the kitchen. He put on water for tea with hands that shook.

Arthur. Back. After all this time. And he'd been forced to live it, as Merlin had, alone on the other side of the veil.

"You were to return when Albion needed you most," Merlin said, his voice faint.

Arthur sighed. "And I didn't. That time has come and gone. Albion has had its golden age, an empire that spanned the entire world, and faced a war and a plague that between them wiped out an entire generation of men. I was meant to return then, but as it turned out, the people of Albion are stronger than anyone gave them credit for."

"World War I? And the global flu pandemic?" Merlin guessed.

Arthur nodded.

"I… had thought you might return then," said Merlin, "but it felt terrible to hope, in the face of so much suffering."

"I know. I saw."

"You… you saw?" Merlin tried to pour the hot water into the waiting cups, but his hands were still shaking so badly that he spilled it across the counter. Arthur stepped up behind him and pulled him away before he could clean it up, pulling him backward against his chest into an embrace and squeezing tight. It felt like he was holding Merlin together, keeping him from falling apart into dust.

After a moment, Arthur walked them into the living room and sat Merlin down, taking only a moment to run his hand idly across the fabric of the sofa cushions. "Merlin," he said, "there's no easy way to say this. The Sidhe… they wanted humanity to fall. Camelot, Albion, all the rest of it. As mankind has spread, the power and influence of the Sidhe have waned. They thought if they could prevent me from returning, then when humanity had destroyed itself, they would be able to regain their power and take over themselves."

Merlin swallowed, feeling sick, but forced himself to focus. "They kept you from returning?"

With a sigh, Arthur nodded.

Merlin could feel his breath coming faster. "I'll destroy them," he said. "All of them. All the Sidhe! They deserve to _pay."_

"Merlin—"

"No, Arthur. After all I've done for them, that they would do this to you and to me. You're not in Avalon anymore; there's no reason for me to preserve it for them. I _protected_ Avalon from the encroaching cities; I've put up wards so that no one would come near and threaten the Lake or the gateway. All so that you could return. And this is how they repay me?" Merlin's hands hurt, and he looked down to see them clenched into tight fists. "I'll repay _them."_

"But I'm telling you that it won't be necessary!" Arthur laid his hands over Merlin's fists. His expression was so earnest, Merlin couldn't help but listen. "Their power has _waned_ , Merlin. It's very nearly gone. They no longer had the strength to keep me, and so I was able to return. There's nothing they can do to me, or to you, any longer. We're free of them."

Merlin's throat felt too dry, even when he swallowed. "I… haven't spoken to one of them in a long time," he admitted. "I thought they'd all gone from the world, like the dragons and other magical creatures."

"They very nearly have," said Arthur. "But I'm not one of them. I couldn't follow them as they left, and I couldn't remain in Avalon without their assistance. When there were no longer enough of them to keep me…" He shrugged. "I walked out of the gateway and there were none to stop me."

Merlin closed his eyes. "And now?"

"And now I wish to see the world, as you have."

"What do you mean?"

Arthur sighed. "When I was first healed, I tried to return, and they said it was not yet my time. They told me of the prophecy, and it was difficult, but I accepted it as best I could. I wasn't dead; the dead generally are more accepting of their fate, once it's upon them. They are not restless. But I was not dead, and I've never been known for my patience…"

He quirked his eyebrow, encouraging Merlin to respond. Merlin couldn't help the little huff of laughter. "I suppose that's true. You've always wanted what you wanted, when you wanted it."

"In any case," Arthur continued with a mock-glare, "when they realized that I was not content to wait for my time, they offered to let me watch. I could follow anyone I had known or cared about in life. I could see them, see their lives, watch over Camelot that way. At first, I thought they were being kind."

Merlin shut his eyes. "Many people think immortality is a gift," he said quietly. He twitched in surprise when something touched his face, and opened his eyes to see Arthur cupping his cheek with one hand, looking at him with more compassion than he'd ever imagined possible.

"I watched everyone age and die," said Arthur. "Just like you. And I also watched as you didn't."

Merlin took a deep breath, but said nothing.

"Was this another of your secrets kept between us?"

At least for this, Merlin could shake his head. "No, Arthur. I wasn't told until the day before the final battle. And I didn't realize what it meant until long after you were gone."

Arthur only nodded, seeming to accept. "Anyway, as time went by, I watched you more and more, because I could only follow those I had known in life. Before much time had passed at all, it seemed, you were the only person left that I _could_ follow."

"I'm sorry," offered Merlin.

"No, don't be. You showed me the world, or parts of it. Things I never could have seen even if I'd lived to be an old man. The crown would have kept me in Camelot, while you were free to see wonders."

"I don't know about _wonders_ ," Merlin tried, but Arthur was already shaking his head.

"They're all wonders to me," he said. "And now… my prophesied time has already come and gone, but the Sidhe's gambit failed. Albion has proven that it doesn't _need_ me. Don't you see it? We're free." He was grinning at Merlin, his eyes alight with excitement. "We're free, Merlin."

Merlin blinked as the realization came over him. Arthur was really back, and there was nothing the Sidhe or anyone else in the world could do to take him from Merlin. Merlin would protect him as he always had. They could go anywhere, do anything.

"I want you to show me everything," Arthur was saying. "I wish to go to the markets where they have all seasons of fruits at the same time, and I wish to see the pipes that carry water in and out of your home so that there are no chamber pots to deal with. I wish to travel to the New World, the land called America, and see the Great Canyon."

"It's… It's called the Grand Canyon, actually…"

"I don't care, I wish to see it. And I wish to see the pyramids."

"Er. Which ones?"

"All of them. There are the ones in the New World jungles, and the ones in the great desert, and the ones in the Far East that look like pyramids but aren't really. And I wish to travel to a menagerie and see the animals from around the world. I wish to pet a giraffe. You will take me there."

Merlin laughed. Arthur's enthusiasm was always infectious. "You know what giraffes are," he said, because what else could he say?

Arthur's smile dimmed a little, but he still looked Merlin in the eye. "I followed you everywhere," he explained. "After a time, you were all I could see. I watched you mourn, and it killed me that I could not reassure you that I was well. I watched you try to live while trapped _waiting_ forever for my return. I watched your despair, and the strength it took to pull yourself out of it. I _watched_ as you filled your days with everything the world had to offer, and how you taught yourself everything you could about the world so that you would be prepared to teach me when I returned. I watched, and God help me, Merlin, it only made me admire you all the more."

Merlin was trembling again, but he shook his head. "I'm not that admirable," he said. "I haven't had that much hope. It was just… as you said. Something to fill the days." He glanced down and traced his fingers over the pattern in the cushions. "I figured, despair was a waste of time because it wasn't as if I could die anyway. And… and if I were still alive, there was always that chance, no matter how small, that I was alive _because_ you would return." He shrugged, not much more than a tensing of his shoulders. "That I could be here for you when you did."

"Well. I'm here now," Arthur said decisively. "And there will never be a need for you to despair again. We are free. The prophecy be damned; we are _free_. And I wish to see the world that you have been forced to live in alone, all this time."

"Always the demanding one," said Merlin, but he was smiling again, too.

"Of course," said Arthur, with a haughty sniff that was entirely faked. "Now, then. This 'curry' you are always ordering in when you are too lazy to cook for yourself: I wish to taste it. Then, I wish to see if your spare bed is as comfortable as this seat is. And tomorrow, you will take me to purchase 'blue jeans'. And when I am properly outfitted for this era, we will go to pet a giraffe."

By the time he finished, Merlin was laughing. He couldn't help it; sheer joy launched him into Arthur's arms, and the two of them laughed and pounded one another on the back until they could settle again.

"All right, sire. Curry, and then giraffes. As you wish."

And after that, the rest of their lives.


End file.
